


Dark Connections

by virtualpersonal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Emotional, F/M, Romance, Sexy Times, angsty, romantic, spn xover buffy, xover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam struggles with Dean's instruction to kill the witch, Willow.  Dark, angsty, and romantic.  A standalone fic, but in the same world and loosely connected with the Dean/Buffy fic "Inspiration Point."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com)  
>  Banner by The Last Shadow
> 
> Co-written with Catscorner

Sam was sitting on the machine at the laundro-mat, trying to read and ignoring the chattering going on around him, when his cell rang. Glancing at it, his eyebrows raised. "Dean?"

"Hey. I don't have much time, Buffy will be back any moment."

"You having a good time?" The moment the questions spilled from his lips, Sam was regretting it because Dean would probably take that for an invitation to give blow by blow details on their sex life. It was the first time they'd managed to get back to Sunnydale since his brother and Buffy had hooked up, and now Dean was grabbing a couple days with her while he could.

"Yeah, great but we have a problem."

"What problem? Dude I am not going on a condom run..." Sam hissed, remembered the last stupid thing Dean had asked for when he was on a date. Sure, it had probably been just to rile him up, but still.

"You know Willow? Research girl Buffy talked about? Her best friend? Turns out she's a witch. And Sammy, not just any witch... some call her 'world destroyer.' I checked it out, and it’s true. But I can't... Buffy won't let me get to her, so we gotta be smart about this."

Sam's breath hissed out. Already he didn't like any of this. "What do you want to do? Want me to find out more about her?"

"Nah, I need you to take care of her, while I keep Buffy busy."

"Take care of her, Dean..." Sam licked his lips. "I don't think that's a good idea, you need to talk to Buffy. Maybe there's something you don't know. I mean, she's the fucking Slayer... that's gotta mean something, she's not gonna be fooled by..."

"You don't think I know that? I checked it out Sam, it's true, alright. The people who are close to us can fool us best, you 'know' that." 

Right. Just the reason he'd been able to fool Dean, hiding his closeness with Ruby, even drinking her blood, turning her into his addiction and keeping Dean in the dark. Thanks for bringing it up, bro. "What... what do you mean take care of her. Put her somewhere until..."

"Shit, she's here. I mean _kill_ her Sam. Don't be fooled by how sweet she is, she's the real thing. Evil. I'll... I'll send Bobby in to help you, but we don't have a lot of time."

"Who're you talking to?"

"Sam, just saying bye. Bye Sam."

Sam heard Buffy's voice and then his brother hung up on him, his instructions clear. Troubled, he climbed down to check on the dryer.

* * *

With the oven cracked, Willow inhaled the yummy scents of lasagna before pushing the door shut with her knee. So what if Xander had bailed on her because he finally got the check-out girl from neighborhood supermarket to go out on a date? Willow was determined not to let her hard work go to waste. There was nothing wrong with eating by herself. She was a grown, independent woman who didn't need another woman - or man, for that matter - to make her complete. The check-out girl was probably a demon anyway and Xander would show up with a harrowing tale and an empty stomach. 

She was just finishing sifting the powdered sugar onto the chocolate lava cake when she heard the doorbell. With a broad smile, she bounded to the door, wiping her hands on her apron before pulling it open. "So what was she? Succubus? Siren? Oh!! Sam!" Willow's eyes went wide when she realized it wasn't Xander at the door at all. She hadn't actually met Dean's brother, but she'd seen him in the car when he'd dropped Dean off. "Uhm... hey," she grinned sheepishly. "You're Sam, right? Willow," she extended her powdered-sugar hand and invited him in.

Seeing the white powder all over the redhead, including the smudge on her nose, and the hand she was giving him, Sam gave a low chuckle, looking down to hide his smile, though he took her hand. "That's quite a greeting, but unless it's Dean asking me those questions, I'd have to say 'incubus'." As if getting the girl jokes from his brother wasn't enough. "Dean around?" he asked, following her inside, trying to ignore his conscience telling him this was 'all wrong.' 

"Oh no, he and Buffy went up to the mountain... you know, Inspiration Point," she waggled her brows suggestively. "They got a little cabin and aren't supposed to be back for a couple days. Didn't he tell you?" Her expression changed, suddenly concerned, "Is there something wrong? Are they coming back early?"

"Nah, he didn't... or maybe I cut him off before he gave TMI," he nodded, looking at her. "I kinda needed his help on... on something. I guess it can wait." He took a deep breath, his stomach rumbling at the smell of a home cooked meal. "You having company? Why don't I get out of your way?" He glanced at the door, but hoped for an invitation. But by the time he looked back at her bright eyes and open expression, he was hoping she'd toss his ass out. 

"Oh! No... well, I was. But he cancelled. Xander... that is. He's just a friend. He's on a date with a Succubus, probably," she laughed so he'd know she was joking and to cover the fact that she couldn't quite stop looking up into his eyes. Wow. Buffy said Sam was the research guy. She just assumed he'd look more like a young Giles or something, but wow. Almost made her want to switch teams again. In fact... she never actually formally declared teams... 

The oven dinged and Willow gave a startled little bounce in response. "Ooh! It's ready. You like lasagna?" she gestured for him to follow as she headed back into the kitchen. "I was just trying to convince myself that eating alone could be fun... but I'm really not all that convincing. So what do you say? Join me?" she grabbed the mitts and opened the oven door. As she looked over her shoulder hopefully, she slipped and burned herself. "OWWW!" she squeaked, turning and very nearly dropping the entire lasagna all over Sam.

"Hey, lemme help." He grabbed a couple of kitchen towels, and took the pan from her. "Self preservation," he muttered, then felt his color rise. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Hopefully she'd get he was kidding. "And I love lasagna, smells great. Where do you want it?" He looked around and saw there was a trivet on the dining room table and headed over there. Setting it down, he glanced over at her. "You sure I'm not interrupting anything? Cause there's always Denny's... or you know, McDonalds." 

As if she could resist those puppy dog eyes even if she wanted to! "No, no. Really," Willow assured, shaking out her burned pinky before popping it in her mouth to suck on it. "You'd be doing me a huge favor. Leave me alone with a bottle of wine and there's no telling what might happen," she picked up the bottle of Merlot and cork screw and followed him out to the table. "Not to mention, I'm kind of a clutz, in case you haven't noticed. Want to do the honors?" she handed him the cork screw.

"Sure," he smiled. Dammit, he liked her. He liked this girl, Buffy's friend. Maybe it was some of the stories Buffy had told, but it felt like he kinda knew her. No way she was a witch. _Are you sure? You didn't think Madison was a werewolf either._ He closed his eyes for a second, then sobering a little, opened the bottle. "Last home cooked meal I had was one of those 'you can eat whatever you want cause you're about to be sacrificed' dinners, you know what I mean? I think this will be much better." It was weird being able to talk about this stuff out in the open, but Buffy was like that, and Sam was more than happy to adopt her ways. Dean was always the one more into secretive behavior. 

"Oh yeah, famous last meal. Been there, done that, ate the cake," she grinned. "And I'm no Julia Childs or anything, but I kinda took up cooking as a hobby as a way to keep myself occupied after..." she paused, stumbling slightly when she remembered that Buffy had told her the Winchesters were leery of witches and there was no way she was going to explain how badly she'd handled Tara's death. "...after a bad break-up." She said dropping her gaze and leaving it at that and hoped Sam would too.

He almost reached out to steady her, but managed to keep his hands to himself. It was hard, trying to kick this feeling of familiarity when there was no real reason for it, other than she seemed real friendly and sweet.

With the wine poured and the table set, Willow started undoing her apron. When she looked down, she realized she had powdered sugar everywhere! "Oh! Uhm... hey... there's salad in the fridge. Would you mind getting that? I just need to... uhm... wash up a bit," she gave him a lopsided smile before dashing off to her bedroom. 

"Sure," he gave her a nod, smiling again at the way she bounced out of the room. He moved quickly, to get the salad in place, and then started to snoop. In the kitchen, he went through the cabinets. He found a lower cabinet filled with candles, and spell ingredients and looked more carefully, trying to determine whether there was anything that cried out 'black magic.' He knew the Slayer and her group had to perform rituals, that didn't make Willow evil, or a witch. No, he needed to find her hex bags.

He was reaching further into the cabinet when he heard her behind him, and quickly closed the cabinet and stood up. His pulse raced, at first because he was sure he'd been caught, and then when he saw her because... just how did 'cute' clean up to be so damned 'hot'? He'd never thought he had a thing for red heads. He licked his lips and raised his hands slightly.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me I had powdered sugar all over my face!" she said giving him her best menacing look, but she couldn't hold it before breaking out into a laugh. "I'm totally not going to trust you to tell me if I get spinach in my teeth either. Sheesh." She went to the drawer next to the cabinet where he'd been rummaging around to pull out the salad tongs. "Looking for these?" she snapped them toward his nose and smiled before leading him back out to the dining room.

"Drawer... yeah, I should'a thought of that. Motel rooms don't come with them," he muttered.

When he joined her, she sat down across from him and dished out the lasagna before lifting her glass of wine. "Well here's to saving me from boring myself to death. Now dig in, I'm starved!"

"Here's to ladies with powdered sugar noses," he answered lifting his own and taking a sip, "which makes me think there's dessert in this somewhere." He set the cup down and did as she said, stabbing his fork into the lasagna, blowing on it, and then putting it in his mouth. A smile spread over his face as he chewed, enjoying the flavors of cheese and tomato and the various textures. By the time he swallowed, he was already getting a second forkful. "Delicious is an understatement. For once in my life, I think I had good timing," he nodded. "It's really good, your Xander is a sap for missing it." 

Willow beamed as she watched him enjoy the first bite as she chewed her own. "I know all about your timing," she grinned. Buffy had told her all about how Sam had showed up at Inspiration Point just in time to see Dean's car a rockin'. "And yes, there's dessert. I hope you like chocolate. Xander says my lava cake is better than an or-- uh--orange carrot cake," she finished, her cheeks turning pink at what she's almost said to a guy she barely knew. She just felt so comfortable with him. It was just like Buffy said about Dean... must be something about these Winchesters. 

He almost swallowed his tongue when she acknowledged his timing issue. He knew exactly what she was referring to, but was surprised Buffy had done that much over sharing. She and Dean made a perfect pair. "I think the saying is better than sex... or orgasm. I really think this Xander is a sap," he shrugged, taking another large bite and trying not to laugh at her terrible attempts to cover up her slip. That told him she was no good at lying... it would be easy to figure out whether Dean was all wrong about her.

Nearly spewing her wine when Sam said what she'd tried not to, it took Willow a moment to recover, her cheeks now burning red. "So what was it you needed Dean's help with? Anything I can do?"

His eyebrows rose as he started to think on what he could say. "Probably not. He forgot to leave behind some hex bags that he got from a witch. I guess it can wait, unless you're a witch and can whip something up." Pulling his gaze away, he refilled her wine glass, then drank from his own. 

"Oh!" Willow perked cheerfully. "I can totally..." she stopped herself mid sentence, remembering Buffy's adamant warning, "... _not_ do that. Hex bag? That's... huh. Yeah. I mean, I know what that is. And you know, we've probably got some stuff around here that we could put one or two together... if... you know, you know what goes in one?" she blinked, her cheeks still flaming, but now for an entirely different reason.

She was nervous. Then again, she was easy to fluster, he knew that from the time they'd spent getting food on the table and talking as they ate. "Yeah, I think I do know. Maybe we'll do that," he nodded, meeting her gaze. "Though the witch-made ones he has would probably be more powerful," he shrugged. "I can swap them out when he and Buffy get back."

They talked a little more about his brother and her best friend, while Sam made sure she had plenty to drink. He thought maybe he was getting her tipsy because she was laughing at his jokes, and he knew he wasn't 'that' funny. Occasionally, he brought up things that a witch would know, and she answered his questions in a way that confirmed her knowledge on the topic. Then again, his knowing what was a right or wrong answer, and not being a witch, made it hard for him to condemn her just for the knowledge. 

"So how about that dessert? Wanna have it by the t.v.?" he asked. He needed to take a look around the apartment. 

"Sure!" Willow smiled as she got up from the table and drained the rest of her wine glass. "I just have to whip up the whip," she giggled. "Whip the whip," she laughed again at the way that sounded as she made her way toward the kitchen. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much fun just relaxing and swapping stories with someone who wasn't a Scooby. She'd have to thank Xander for ditching her. Hopefully he wasn't being seduced by a succubus. 

"I'll just be a few. Make yourself comfy!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Mkay, bathroom that way?" Without waiting for an answer, Sam walked out of the room and started opening the doors that lined the hallway. Bathroom. Bedroom, bathroom, office...

Before he reached the room at the end of the hall, he heard her calling him. Cursing under his breath, he walked back, sitting down next to her on the sofa. "That looks delicious."

A moment later, he had a spoonful of the chocolate concoction and was 'mmm mming' in a way that could completely compete with Dean. Putting one arm behind her, along the back of the couch, he offered his spoonful to her, bringing it near her mouth. 

Giggling a little nervously at the intimacy of the gesture, Willow opened her mouth and savored the bite, letting the sensations of the molten chocolate roll over her tongue. Even she was surprised by how good it tasted and her eyes rolled back in her head a little as she whimpered with pleasure. 

"Wow..." she licked her lips as her eyes met his. She could feel her pulse kick up and her cheeks warm. "Xander was right. Or you were... whoever said the sex part..." she laughed realizing for the first time she was tipsy.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, smiling. "Sorry... a bit too much of the vino. Plus, this is sooo good." He took a bite, but kept his eyes on her. "Another bite?" He brought his spoon back to her mouth, this time he'd scooped up some cream. As he repositioned himself, it touched her nose and he laughed. "I think your nose is a sweet-magnate." This was more Dean's forte, sweet talking his way into a girl's bedroom. He was pretty sure from having seen Dean's jacket in the first room he'd looked inside that it was Buffy's, which meant he needed to get into Willow's. He had the amulet on him, but before he got drastic, he wanted something more to go on than his brother's word. He trusted Dean with his own life, but not necessarily with the lives of those Dean thought might be supernaturals. 

The giggle caught in her throat and she hitched a breath when he saw the way he was looking at her, those puppy dog eyes trained directly on her and crinkling at the edges with the sheer force of his broad smile. Impulsively, she caught his hand and licked the whip cream from his finger, her smile matching his. _What was she doing?_

"Wouldn't want any of it to go to waste... right?" she offered the ridiculous excuse before taking his spoon and scooping up a bite for him, pulling it back just as he opened his mouth, teasing him until he was forced to bring his mouth closer to hers. Gods and goddesses but he smelled so good. It had been so long since she'd found a man attractive... since a man made her get that squishy fluttery feeling inside that brought the blood pooling to places she couldn't think about without blushing madly.

"Uh humm, right," he agreed, licking the dense cake off the spoon, but not moving away from her mouth. He slipped his hand around the side of her neck, his thumb moving back and forth across her jaw line. What was he doing here? He really liked this girl. This wasn't really right, but he'd already committed, at least to the kiss, so he moved in, covering her mouth with his. He was gentle as he sucked on her lower lip, pulled back, then brought their mouths together again in a real kiss. 

The sweet chocolate caressed her taste buds as his tongue swept across hers in a tantalizing dance of euphoric sensations. Another whimper of pleasure escaped her lips as Willow melted into the kiss. After a moment, she pulled back. "Sam..." she whispered, not because she wanted to stop, but because they were about have molten lava cake in their laps. "Hot... lava," she tried to move her arm to put the bowl down, but she needed him to shift.

"Mmm? He moved suddenly, knocking her arm, and the cake fell on mostly her lap. "Aw man..." he used the bowl to scoop most of it back in, and helped her up off the sofa. "Let's get this... off you," he said, pulling her close and kissing her one more time. He pushed her hair behind her ear, then started walking with her, his mouth nuzzling her ear. 

Even as tipsy as she was, she could see that leading this guy into her bedroom under the pretense of getting her clothes off was a bad idea - _especially_ as tipsy as she was. But ohhh his breath on her ear had her tingling all over and she swayed against him. He was so tall and his arm wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. And he was _so_ nice. And sweet... and... gods but she wanted him. How crazy was she? It had been years since she'd been with a guy. Since Oz. Not to mention, she barely knew him. But Buffy had told her so much about Dean and Sam that she felt like she did. But still... with each step closer to her room she hesitated until she finally stopped. 

Turning to face him with her back to her door, Willow put a hand on his chest and pushed way up on her toes to pull him into a heated kiss. When she drew back down she bit her lower lip. "I'll just quick change... and I'll be right back out. Okay?" Before he could say or do anything to tip her over the edge and make her reconsider, she reached behind her and turned the knob, slipping inside her room and shutting the door. 

It wasn't until she was in her room that she remembered that she still had her altar set up. She'd never bothered putting things away after the last time she'd summoned Isis which had required some pretty major mojo. Eyes popped wide and her hand flew to her mouth as she rushed over to start stashing things - just in case she changed her mind later about inviting Sam into her room. Not that she would. But... just in case.

Sam heard something get knocked over and used it as an excuse to open the door. "Willow, you alright?" Even before the words left him, he saw the altar, and the damning evidence in her hands... a ritual bowl, and other things she was trying to hide. And her wide eyed look. 

His heart fell. He hadn't wanted to believe it, really hadn't wanted to. He lifted a finger, before she said a word, silencing her. "A witch... you're really a witch." Disappointment turned to anger, mostly because he needed anger to make him do this. In a two long steps, he was inside her room and had thrown an amulet on a chain around her neck, and pushed her backwards on the bed.

Before he’d come to her place, he'd worked hard on creating a witch binding amulet. It was like a devil's trap, only it bound a witch's power. It wasn't forever, and the length of time it worked varied depending on the witch's power, but it would be enough time for him to rid the world of a witch who planned to destroy it.

Straddling her, he held her wrists pinned onto the mattress on either side of her body. "What is the ritual you were performing just now?" he asked, trying to remember that everything before this moment had been false. This was the real Willow right here. 

Filled with confusion, Willow gasped and struggled, but he was too strong. Instinctively she reached for her source, but she couldn't touch it. She was cut off from her own magic! Panic set in and her eyes filled with the loss and naked fear. "Sam... no. I wasn't. Please..." she begged, tears brimming her wild green eyes. "What are you doing? You're hurting me... _please_ stop!" she sobbed.

He loosened his hold, but only slightly. "I asked you about the ritual," he cocked his head to the side. "Don't lie to me. I know what all that stuff is, I know you're a witch. Admit it." He wanted to hear the words from here. "Stop crying... tell the truth," he demanded. 

"Yes... yes, I'm a witch," she nodded, drawing in a deep breath to try and get a grip. She had to focus. "But I'm a _good_ witch! I swear." She was still trembling and straining against him, the sensation of utter emptiness threatened to overwhelm her. "I wasn't doing a ritual. I was just putting the stuff away so you wouldn't see and freak out... like you are now."

"That's an altar. What have you sacrificed? Is Buffy in on this?" He had to ask, had to know. He knew she was trying to concentrate, and he tightened his grip. "Don't even try your magic on me, I came prepared." 

Willow let out a frustrated groan. "I haven't sacrificed anything. This is where I do my casting circle. The altar is inscribed with symbols that help focus. I banish evil, just like Buffy, only with magic," she tried to explain, but she could tell by the set of his jaw that he wasn't buying any of it. And the truth was, there was a very fine line between dark and light and Willow _had_ crossed that line in a bad way. But that was in the past. Never again... 

"Sam, please. Just get off of me and I'll tell you anything you want to know." Her voice was steadier now and she forced herself to relax beneath him so she could focus all of her energy on destroying the amulet that was cutting her off from her source. She licked her lips and when they parted she began a silent chant that only moved the air in front of her lips.

"No... stop it, stop that..." he could see the amulet changing colors ... going from silver to tarnished black. "Stop," and when her chanting continued, he lowered hid mouth over hers in an angry kiss, calculated to silence, to stop her use of evil. He knew he was bruising her lips, but what difference did a little bruising make when she was going to be dead soon? Fuck... he wish Dean was here.

He lifted his head. "Who do you pray to? Which DEMON?"


	2. Chapter 2

The brutal kiss brought tears to her eyes and streaming down the sides of her face, but still she didn't stop her chant, now voicing the words louder and louder. Through sheer force of will, she drove through the barrier until the amulet started smoldering, burning its pattern into her chest before it finally splintered and shattered. 

As her power rushed back into her, she threw her head back and convulsed. Eyes bled to white orbs and fiery red hair morphed into a silvery mane. As Sam pulled his arm back to plunge a dagger into her chest, she blasted him backward and pinned him against the far wall while simultaneously enveloping the entire room in a dimensional suspension. Rising from the bed, she walked over to him. "Ready to listen to me now?"

What the... "Dean was right about you," he said, though she was much more powerful than he'd even imagined. He tried to pull off the wall, then turned his gaze on her and concentrated. One minute she was approaching him, the next, she went flying against the opposite wall. He had her pinned the same way. "Listen to what? This proves you're a witch." His gaze raked over her wild new look. "So that's what you look like _under_." 

Surprised by the attack, Willow hit the wall hard, but still she maintained the spell to suspend them out of space and time until she could figure out what was going on. "I already told you I was a witch. Now it's your turn. Just what are you?" She narrowed her white-eyed gaze and used her Sight study him. Genuinely startled, she reinforced the spell that held him in place while she worked to disable the hold he had over her. 

"Does Dean know you're a demon? Is this a family trait? You get your kicks going around killing anything more powerful than you? You always seduce them first too?" her voice cracked when she shouted the last. She'd actually thought about sleeping with him!

He felt like she'd just punched him in the gut. Twice. First because she saw through his own disguise, his deep shame, and second, even as he'd done what she accused him of, seduced her, he'd felt it was wrong. _She's a witch!_ Yeah, that old finger pointing worked much better for Dean. "I'm not. Not demon. I... we only kill evil things," he raised his chin. He saw her start to move, and tried to force her to hold still, the way she was making him hold still, but he knew he was losing that battle. "Does Buffy know about you?" 

"Of course Buffy knows about me! She's my best friend. And I told you, _we_ only kill evil things too," she let out an exasperated grunt. "Ugh. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one." 

Thread by thread, Willow slowly plucked away at the invisible hold he had on her - it was some kind of telekinesis, she was pretty sure. But there was definitely a dark taint to it. When she was finally able to move her hand, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and speed-dialed Buffy, leaving it on speaker since she wasn't yet able to lift the phone to her ear. As soon as her friend picked up, she shouted. "Buffy. Tell Dean to call off his dog."

"Hmm?" Buffy laughed, and pushed Dean away. "Wait. It's Willow." She put the phone on speaker. "Dean's here, and he's going to behave," she said in her best 'teacher's voice.' You wanted to say something to him?"

"I gotta say, your timing? Just as bad as Sam's," Dean said, his breath clearly labored when he took the phone.

"Dean, you were right, she's a witch," Sam said quickly, before Willow found some way to shut him up.

"Who's a witch?" Dean asked, turning the speaker on and shrugging at Buffy.

" _I"m_ a freaking witch, okay!" Willow shouted, white eyes blazing with the strain of holding a powerful spell and trying to undo Sam's at the same time. "Buffy, get away from Dean. He sent Sam here to kill me."

"What?" That was Buffy and Dean speaking in unison.  
"Wait, what? Willow's a witch?" Dean's voice instantly sobered. "Sam? What's she talking about?"

"Dean, you called me. You told me--" He shut up, wondering whether his brother was in trouble too.

Dean sensed his brother's hesitation and knew it was because Sam was trying to be discrete. "Go ahead Sammy, what did I tell you?"

"Dude you called me and told me that Willow's a witch, dangerous. You told me to... you know..."

"What the fuck? I didn't call you."

"I wasn't sure, I tried to be sure and..."

"Sammy, I didn't call you... wasn't me."

Then Sam and Dean spoke in unison. "Trickster." 

"Oh.... no... you too?" Willow looked over to Sam, white eyes shifted back to green and her hair returned to normal. "That's why the altar was still up. A couple of weeks ago the Trickster flipped things upside down around here. I summoned Isis and she helped me banish him to another dimension. Guess he's pissed..." she tilted her head and made the first move releasing Sam from her hold.

Sam tumbled to the ground and quickly recovered. He stood up, rubbing his head and looking very sheepish. "Never mind, I think we got it from here. You guys carry on," he said, his eyes locking with Willows.

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked, "cause we can totally get there in a couple hours..." 

"We got it, Buff," Willow said before flipping the phone shut and pocketing it. 

Her eyes still trained on Sam's, Willow raised her hands in surrender, which also showed him she would ultimately be able to free herself if she tried hard enough. "Going to let me down now?"

"Sorry." He let her go a lot more gently than she had let him go. "Willow, about..." he scratched the back of his head, making a face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't want to believe, and I should have gone with my gut. This... " he waved his hand around. "It's not my style." Awkward. "Know what? I'm gonna go now, take care of this." 

Willow sighed and looked down at her feet for a moment. The guy had tried to kill her! But would she have done the same if the roles had been reversed? Maybe. Probably. "Wait." She brought her eyes back up to his and stepped forward. "How are you going to take care of the Trickster? If you've dealt with him before, you know he's powerful. More powerful than me..." she said, her words gentle but carried the weight of her legacy.

"Right now, I dunno," he admitted. "Can't say it's gone well before. Guess he has an axe to grind with you too." He paused, "you think we can work together? I'd understand if..." Yeah, he expected nothing less than getting tossed on his ass after what he'd pulled, and it was exactly what he deserved for being such a dumbass. 

"Yeah..." she gave him a half smirk and lifted one shoulder in a shrug, hoping it came off more casual than it felt. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve and I already know you've got great acting skills..." she looked away, desperately trying to keep the hurt from her expression. "Heh. Sweet-magnate. That was a good one." She blinked and drew in a long breath and regrouped, already formulating a plan. "I have an idea."

"Does it involve turning me into a rat or something?" he asked, ruefully. "Not that I don't deserve it." Hanging his head slightly, he looked at her from under his bangs. 

"Hey! Despite whatever rumors you might have heard, I wasn't the one that turned Amy into a rat. It wasn't my fault it took so long to unrat her. Turns out she totally deserved it anyway..." she said with a bitter frown until she saw the look on Sam's face and realized he'd just been kidding. "Uhm... not turning you into a rat. Even if you do deserve it," she said, shooting him a stern look. 

Despite the hurt feelings, she found it impossible to stay mad at him. Even if he had dumped chocolate lava cake all over her just to trick her into letting him into her room. "Turns out I'm a sucker for a nice smile."

He knew she was letting him off lightly. He'd make it up to her somehow, maybe find a way to let her know it wasn't all pretending. He did find her hella attractive, and the kissing had been hot enough to make him feel real guilty. And the dinner, it was special, in a way someone that ate home cooked meals on a regular basis would never get. "What's your idea?" 

"Okay, well..." Willow started tentatively as she was still trying to work out the logistics in her head. "Since you've dealt with the trickster You know the only way to kill the trickster is to stab him in the heart with a wooden stake covered in the blood of his victim, right? And, from the sounds of it, I was his intended victim. So it's pretty simple, really..." she tilted her head and looked up at Sam. "You finish me off like you were planning to. Trickster shows up to gloat about how he tricked you - 'cause you know he's predictable like that - and you turn around and make with the stabby." 

He stared at her for a long moment. "You know, Dean has your morbid sense of humor. But me... that's not even a little funny." He paced, then looked at her. "Could you let us out of this... whatever it is? Walking two steps isn't my idea of pacing." 

"No... no, I wasn't joking," Willow said stepping forward to touch his arm and stop his pacing. "Look." She nodded toward the bed as she lowered the veil between realities to reveal the scene still suspended time. She sucked in a sharp breath at the image of Sam straddling her, his mouth covering hers in a brutal kiss, arm raised with a dagger in hand ready to plunge it into her. Despite the circumstances, she felt her pulse kick up and her cheeks flushed with arousal. If you didn't count the whole murderous intent... there was some seriously intense heat going on there.

He felt heat creeping up his neck and cheeks, a combination of shame and... yeah, if he'd seen that as a picture in some skin mag or in a movie, it would definitely get him all sorts of hot. Wrong but... yeah. He licked his lips, swallowed and looked at her. "That's.... really weird. What have you done?" His mind had already partially worked it out but he wasn't liking her solution, if he was right about what she was thinking. 

"Just a little dimensional sidestep," she said with genuine modesty. "I didn't know what else to do at the time. You kinda forced me to pull out the big guns," she gave him a lopsided smile. "But it means that the trickster shouldn't know we're on to him - assuming he's watching his handiwork go down," she reasoned. "So if I slip you back over there, you'll merge with your other self because two of you can't exist in the same reality," she paused. "Well, you _can_ but only when you're talking about parallel dimensions and trust me, you do not want to meet the vampire version of me, talk about evil. Sexy, but whew! Sadistic. Anyway, that's another story," she waved it off for another time. 

"Anyway, you slip back into you and kill me - _that_ me," she pointed to the bed to clarify. "You'll need a wooden stake covered in my blood..." she looked around and spotted one nice and handy on the nightstand."There," she pointed. "Yeah, yeah... I know. Not the normal bedside toys," she flushed slightly and quickly moved on. "Once I'm dead, the Trickster will show up to congratulate you on a job well done -- because that's what self-important, cocky, demi-gods do -- but you'll be ready for him. You've got the death stake. You kill him. I sidestep over there and my life force brings me back as our bodies merge and it's all good," she finished with a pleased smile. 

"All good," he nodded slowly, "except the part where I kill you. I can't do that. It was hard enough before." He pressed his lips together in a tight line, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "No," he shook his head. 

"I won't be dead. I'll be right here..." she said quietly, but she could see he wasn't convinced. "Think about it this way. If I hadn't side stepped over here, I'd be dead. You were already committed and that outcome can't be altered. So really, that version of me is already dead," she explained her logic, but not without a touch of sadness in her heart. "But this version of me? Well let's just say I still have things I want to do, places I want to go, people I want to see..." she looked up at him through cinnamon lashes. "Don't plan on dying today." 

He was silent, for a long time. Wrestling with her idea. No, her explanation that he'd been committed to killing her so he could pretend that she already was dead, and proceed that way, that didn't ease his mind even a little. But try as he might, he couldn't think of any way to get to the Trickster. God knows he'd tried before, and the only time the bastard appeared again after playing one of his tricks was at the end game point. He’d had enough of the man, making his life miserable, and apparently Willow's as well. 

He looked back at her. Could he do this? Why the fuck wasn't he more like Dean? His brother could probably... He swallowed. "Difference is, I thought I had a justifiable reason before. Even then I..." it made him uncomfortable to talk about it. "Now, it feels like it's in cold blood." He was miserable, but he started accepting it as the only option they had. 

Willow nodded. "I know," she said plainly. And she did know how he felt. She'd killed Warren in cold blood after he took Tara from her. "But what's done is done." Her voice sounded surprisingly cold even to her own ears. It was something she lived with every day. It was what kept her from ever going back to that dark place. 

She took a breath and her expression lightened. "But in the end I'll still be here and the Trickster won't. Unless... you have a better idea? You could always seduce him..." she teased.

"I don't think I'm his type." The joke was forced, but he nodded. "Let's do it." 

Willow flashed a wry grin, mostly to hide her own unease about what they were about to do. It wasn't like she'd ever tried anything like this before, it was all theoretical. But she was pretty sure it would work... 

"Okay, let's do it," she echoed with a resolute nod as if reassuring herself. "Now remember, you have to put yourself back in the place where you thought I was evil. Though seriously? An altar and a ritual bowl makes me the Wicked Witch of the East?" she shook her head, still not understanding his logic. "Nevermind," she continued. "You can make it up to me later," she gave him a genuine smile. "When the Trickster shows up, you have to be surprised or he'll know you're onto him. And... if he doesn't show up. Just take the stake with his number on it and go. He'll catch up with you somewhere else and I'll take care of myself here. Okay? No looking back. Got it?"

She had no idea what she was asking of him. None. No idea he wanted to be sick at the thought of what he was about to do. "Got it." What else was there to say? 

Willow waited for Sam's nod before she drew in a deep breath and centered herself, carefully and deliberately immersing herself in the power of the dimensional bubble she'd created around them until she could feel the pulse of the magical energy merging with her life force. Lifting her gaze to meet his, Willow fixed all her attention on Sam, carefully unweaving the spell around him while maintaining the bubble around herself. Her breathing slowed and when she reached the peak of her control, she reached out and touched his chest, allowing her power flow into him. 

"Now..." she whispered, giving him a gentle nudge toward the bed to push him through the dimensional barrier.

Warmth rushed from her palm right through his system and momentarily took his breath away. It was almost as if they were one, but before he could explore the sensation further, he found himself back in reality. Since the dagger was in his hand, he'd call it more of a nightmare. No, that wasn't quite right either, not when their mouths were moving against each other in a perfect rhythm. No, that wasn't quite right... his lips were moving over hers, almost brutally, trying to silence her. The veil of confusion cleared, and he almost wished it hadn't as he lifted his head and plunged the dagger into her heart.

Blood splattered over his face. But it wasn't over... the nightmare wasn't over. She was fighting him slightly. Her eyes were wide... so wide with horror, oh God... he'd been there before. With Dean, he'd been right here. He grit his teeth, trying to force the images from his mind. _Die... please... just die._

He heard her draw in a rough, fought for breath, felt the tears prick his eyes, and reached for the wooden stake on the nightstand, piercing it into her chest again, to end her nightmare, his... just end it. Eyes practically screwed shut, he rolled off, "dammit... God dammit.." 

It was harder to watch than Willow could have imagined. The raw emotion and intensity in Sam's eyes burned through her and she physically recoiled and cried out when he plunged the blade into her other self. But there was no time to mourn because no sooner had Sam pulled away from her lifeless form, than the door swung open and the Trickster came strolling in. And he had a big bowl of her lava cake! That rat bastard! 

"Mmmmm mmmm good," the demi-god pointed at the dessert with his spoon and licked the chocolate from his lips. "Sam? Have you tried this? Oh... right. You have. Truly decadent. And might I say? Nice touch," he said gesturing to the bed. "Murder by seduction. I thought that was more Dean's forte. Guess you're learning to be more independent. That's good, Sam. See? Didn't I tell you...?" The Trickster took another bite of the cake and he released a sigh of pleasure. "That pesky little witch really outdid herself this time."

"What are you doing here?" A genuinely distraught Sam scrambled to a sitting position. "What?" he demanded. 

"Oh, that's right. You're the sensitive one," the Trickster rolled the spoon in a flip gesture. "You're actually troubled by this. Even though you just rid the world of a witch - Class A Evil on the witchy richter scale. I'll give you a minute to catch up." He took another bite. "Do you want some? There's more..." he motioned out toward the kitchen.

"I asked you what you're doing here," Sam repeated, lips flattened into a straight line, obviously refusing to discuss the witch. "It's never good when you're involved, what are you up to?"

"Are you really that slow? And here I thought you were the smart one," the Trickster sighed as he moved closer to impassively examine the deadness of the witch. "I was the one that gave you the tip," he told him with a self-satisfied smirk. "You can thank me later."

"Tip? What tip? What are you talking about?" Sam started climbing out of bed, reaching across Willow's body to the other side of the bed to grab his wallet, and simultaneously pulling the stake out of her while he blocked the trickster's view. "You... not Dean. Shit..." He sounded dejected, but he whipped around quickly, this time slamming the stake into the trickster's chest, driving it in deep as he remembered how many times the trickster had forced him to watch his brother die. 

The Trickster's eyes went wide and he stumbled back, lava cake spilling to the floor. 

"YES!" Willow celebrated from behind the dimensional barrier. It had been all she could do to bite her tongue and not step through and throttle the Trickster herself. Why were all demi-gods so cocky?! But at least his hubris gave Sam the opening he needed to get the job done. And now it was her turn. 

Gathering her full strength, the witch leapt through the barrier and into her own body and for one brief, suffocating, terrifying moment, Willow experienced death. A concentrated burst of magical infusion allowed her life force to flood into the body and as they merged into one, she sucked in a sudden breath of air. She levered bolt upright and her eyes popped open. That's when she saw the Tricker's expression change, his mouth curling into a smirk. Sam had turned his back to watch her so he didn't see the Trickster yank the stake from his chest and sweep his hand as if intending to wipe them both from existence with a thought. 

"Sam!" Willow shouted. "Behind you!" 

At the same moment Sam threw out his arms in an attempt to contain the Trickster with his demonic power, Willow grabbed her "I Dream of Jeannie" novelty bottle off the lower shelf of the nightstand and popped the cork. Shouting an improvised incantation, she threw the most powerful spell she could conjure in that moment intending to trap the Trickster inside. 

The simultaneous clash of magics exploded in a torrent of crackling energy, lighting up the room like a mega-watt kaleidoscope. 

The next thing Willow knew, she and Sam were tumbling onto a red velvet circular sofa and she heard the deafening sound of laughter cut short by the distinct thwap of a cork being inserted overhead. 

"Uhm... ooops." 

"Oops? Kinda an understatement," Sam said, raising himself up off her, though it was difficult with the sofa being so damned squishy. Bangs falling over his eyes, he braced his weight on one arm, and looked around. "Feel like we're on some movie set... any idea what happened?" 

It didn’t escape Sam that Willow had somehow lost her dress and was in a gauzy, softer, under-thing... It was a relief not to have to see all that blood on her, but he had to remind himself not to stare.

Before she could answer him, he was off the sofa and touching the smooth fuchsia walls of the room, frowning. He started to bang on them, "Let us out of here you... " Yeah, he knew he was wasting his breath. Momentarily defeated, he ran his hand over his face and turned to Willow. "Guess plan B didn't work either." 

"Not exactly..." she said, again in understatement. She picked up one of the dozen soft purple throw pillows and held it to her stomach as she slowly sat upright and looked around the interior of the novelty bottle that was now their prison. "You ever watch Nick at Night TV Classics?" she asked, looking up at him and biting her lip. "Before I even learned how to do magic, I always thought Jeannie was the coolest, even though she was always getting her Master in trouble..." she sighed. "When I saw the Trickster coming after you, I panicked," she admitted. "I tried to stuff him in here and everything went kablooey and here we are." 

Frustrated, Willow fell back on the couch and covered her face with the pillow. "I'm sorry," she muffled.

"Jeannie? You mean 'I Dream of Jeannie' the genie?" As what had happened started to sink in he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, cause it was so freakin' 'out there.' "So... you got us in here, you can get us out, right? I mean we're not going to have to wait until Buffy and Dean get back... not to mention I was kinda fond of my size." Walking over, he dropped down on the sofa, not real worried, pretty sure she'd just wave her hand or whatever, and they'd be out of their kitsch prison. 

Willow removed the pillow and sat up. "Right... sure," she said, not sounding all that certain. For the first time since Sam has surprised her, she remembered that she’d pulled off her chocolate covered dress and was left in her lacey slip. Cheeks burned and she lifted the pillow to cover herself, but it was a futile effort. They were in real trouble here and she really needed to focus. 

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin in classic resolve face and stood up. "Yeah. I totally should be able to undo this." She took another deep, centering breath, grateful at least that she wasn't covered in blood. "Right, I can do this." She closed her eyes and concentrated on unweaving the spell she'd cast.

Cinnamon brows furrowed as her fingers twitched at her sides. Something wasn't right. Chewing her lower lip, she allowed her magic to flow over her and her breathing grew more deliberate and controlled, careful to keep in reined in. The last thing they needed was some unrestrained mojo to foul things up even worse. She was making some progress and she felt the spell starting to weaken, but then her eyes popped wide and she felt it. Gasping, she withdrew from her source and fell back onto the couch.

Sam looked over at her. "You alright?" She seemed fine, but surprised at something, though he had no idea what it might be. "Willow?"

Looking over at Sam, she swallowed hard, her expression anxious and not at all resolved. "We have a problem..."

"Yeah... I know. Bigger problem than we thought?" He frowned. "Yeah, it's never simple where the Trickster is concerned. The things his mind cooks up, it's scary." He started pulling his cell out of his pocket, even as he looked at her to see if she had a better idea of what was going on, other than her magic wasn't reversing the spell she'd put on them. 

"Yeah... the spell. It's laced with some kind of taint..." she said almost apologetically. "I don't know how. I swear I wasn't using dark magic," she added looking at his phone hopefully. "Do you have a signal?"

He slapped it against his thigh and shook his head. "You mean it isn't your spell? It's his?" He got up and paced away. "There should be a way to fight dark magic." Yeah right, with his lap top on the other side of their prison, he couldn't even research a way out of this. Hopefully she'd have more experience... and yeah he never thought he'd hope someone had witchy experience... but if anything, that was what was most likely going to get them out of this. 

"No, it's my spell... it's just bound with something dark. Not... not magic, exactly..." she reached out a tentative finger and touched it again, studying it curiously. When she looked over at Sam she realized why it was familiar. "It's you!" she said with a jolt of surprise. "It's demonic. Sam... somehow our powers must have gotten mixed up and intertwined in the chaos. The taint that bound us here is yours." She bit her lower lip, looking at him seriously. "What is it? What _are_ you?"

He flinched. Sure he knew the demon Azazel had fed him his blood, but it was his dirty little secret. He was with Dean on that one, not wanting anyone else to find out. And here... she had figured it out. He shook his head, "I didn't work any spell, you've got it wrong. You have to have." But the sinking feeling in his stomach told him she'd gotten too close to the truth for her to be wrong. 

"I didn't say it was magic," she repeated, her brows furrowing. "You started this. You were the one that came to kill me. I was just trying to save you," she reminded him. "I know you hate witches and everything about us," she said with a pained hitch in her throat. "But if you expect me to get us out of here, you need to come clean. I sensed the taint in you before when you used your powers."

His jaw pulsed, but he shook his head. Pacing back and forth, he finally sat down and bracing his elbows on his knees put his face in his hands, using the heels of his hands to rub his eyes. "I was forced to ingest demon blood when I was... a long time ago. I don't really know what that means." Other than I have powers that freak Dean ... when they're not freaking me out. Pulling his head up, he looked at her. "It's all I know, really." 

"Oh. Gods... Sam, I'm sorry," Willow said, eyes filled with sympathy. She knew he'd just revealed something very personal and she could practically feel the shame in his heart. "Okay..." she nodded. "It's okay. We can do this..." she nodded and stood up to pace, though she could only take two steps across the small circular space before she had to turn back. 

She tilted her head up and looked at the cork at the top of the bottle, her hand moving to the back of her neck as she took a deep breath. "Does it feel like it's getting hotter in here? Or am I just feeling claustrophobic?"

He hadn't realized his eyes were following her back and forth and lingering where her hand skimmed over her throat. Dragging his gaze up quickly and kicking himself, he shook his head. "A little, not that bad but ... yeah, it's tight. We could try to knock the bottle over then push the cork out. At least we'd be out of here." 

Willow considered that for a minute before shaking her head. "I really don't think the cheap novelty bottle had real velvet pillows inside it so I'm thinking the Trickster decided to give us something more authentic. Jeannie was 2,000 years old and stuck in that bottle a long time before Major Nelson found it and let her out, so I'm kinda thinking we wouldn't have any better luck escaping," she reasoned. "And I don't know about you, but if we wait for Buffy or Dean to open it... well let's just say there's no way I'm calling your brother Master," she gave him a sly grin before drawing in a deep breath, brows pulling into a frown. 

"Besides, I don't think we have that kind of time. Jeannie may not have needed air to breath, but we do..." she took another breath to confirm that she was already starting to feel light headed. "Okay... I can do this. But..." She swallowed and returned to the sofa to sit next to Sam, studying him for a long moment. He'd confided in her and she felt she owed him as much. He needed to know. It was their only chance of getting out. 

He was busy being impressed by the way she kept her head and really thought things through and even kept her humor, when he felt the sofa sink in slightly and turned to her. "At least he didn't put us in Jeannie outfits. Might'a suited you but..." he looked down at himself, then back up at her. Her frown worried him a little, and he almost reached out with his finger to smooth it. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to speak her mind.

"Okay, here's the thing..." she looked into his eyes, her own gaze filled with worry. "Promise you won't freak out?"

"I'm not easy to freak, promise." He raised a brow at her look. "Just say it." 

She wanted to take a deep breath, but she stopped herself and just nodded to conserve the air. "Okay. So... you know the part about where you thought I was evil?" She looked down into her lap where she was wringing her hands anxiously. "Well, that wasn't exactly wrong." The confession weighed on her chest as if she was being smothered. Or maybe they were just running out of air faster than she thought. Either way, when she managed to raise her gaze again, her eyes were filled with shame.

He searched her face, trying to find a hidden message there. After spending a little more time with her, he'd convinced himself she wasn't capable of hurting a fly, let alone being the kind of witch he and his brother hunted. It had been a close call and he was so damned lucky she'd been able to stop him from killing her. He was still grateful for that as she spoke. But the look in her eyes now, he recognized it. He'd seen it in the mirror so often, or felt it creeping in when he used his powers and felt Dean's disapproval even when he'd accomplished something good. 

"I'm not evil any more. But... but bad things happened. And I went over the deep end... and... used dark magicks... and it was _really_ bad. And I wouldn't even be telling you this except that in order to get us out of here I think I'm going to need to tap into that demon taint of yours and... and I'm afraid of what might happen." She searched his face. "I won't even try if you don't want me to. Maybe there's another way..."

It was like a 'one two punch,' hearing about her using dark magic and then dredging up his demon taint again. Then she was asking him the unthinkable and his face must have shown it because she didn't wait for an answer.

Drawing back suddenly, she folded her arms out over her chest and squeezed her eyes shut while she jerked her head forward in a quick nod in imitation of Jeannie. Cracking one eye open, she sighed and lowered her arms. "Thought maybe it was worth a try..." she lifted her shoulder in a sheepish shrug and waited for him to freak out.

He gave a tight smile, still thinking on what she'd said. To be honest, it was Dean who was so anti-using his powers, Sam sometimes thought using it to do good somehow balanced things, counted as 'one for the good guys.' Yeah, he’d gone overboard before, gone darkside, but that was his mistake. It didn’t mean the idea was unworkable.

"I... I've tapped into it a couple times," Sam admitted. "Promised Dean I wouldn't but it's hard, when you know you can exorcise a demon just by ordering it out rather than doing a whole ritual, or... you know, when you want to break something's hold on you." 

Willow nodded. Oh yes, she knew all too well. That's the way it started. Using dark magic for good. It all seems justified. Then using it for convenience. Then using it because you can't stop. The addiction would take hold... and you couldn’t stop until you destroyed yourself and took the whole world with you. Oh yes... she knew. All it would take was the death of someone he loved. She held his gaze, understanding him more than he knew. 

He licked his lips and continued once he didn't see censure in her eyes. "So what you're saying is that instead of tapping into your own, you want to tap into mine." 

"I'll need to tap into both, actually. I know my own signature so I can undo that aspect of the spell easy enough, but I'll need to match the resonance of the binding with your powers," she explained. "That's going to be the tricky part. But I spent some time in England with a coven and I learned a technique that I think will work. It'll help me stay centered..." she paused a beat and chewed her lower lip. 

"It's kind of intense. We'll need to hook up. Uhm. I mean... link up. Connect... like... ugh," she blew out a breath. "It's hard to explain... You'll just kind of have to feel your way through it... trust your instincts..."

His lips quirked despite the seriousness of what she was proposing. She made him want to laugh or smile, all the time, and it was rare for him to meet people who had that effect on him. For the umpteenth time, he wished he hadn't been fooled by the Trickster and been led astray by his true-to-life version of Dean. He should have fought Dean on this, just as he'd fought him on the issue of killing vampires just because of what they were, even if they fought their nature and refused to harm humans.

She stood up and held out her hand to him to stand with her. "You ready?"

"Sounds like a _proposition_ I can't refuse," he answered, his larger hand practically swallowing hers up as he closed it over hers. Standing so close, in a small space, holding hands and remembering the explosion of chemistry between them, it was Sam's turn to start feeling warm. If he were stupid, he could blame it on the increasing lack of air. "Need me to do anything?" His gaze locked with hers, his breath catching at the hint of fire he saw in the depths of her eyes. 

"Just... follow my lead," she said evenly, quirking a small smile before growing very serious. She dropped his hand and moved to stand closer, tilting her head back so she could hold his gaze even as their bodies almost touched. "The last time I did this, the affect was split up between twelve other witches and even then, they said it was difficult to stay focused. I don't know how it's going to be for you... so if it's too much... just tell me to stop, okay?" 

Taking a breath, she placed her palms against his chest and slowly moved them over his muscles until she found the most powerful point of contact. With one hand on his chest and the other lowered to lay flat against his abdomen, she concentrated a trickle of magic into her fingers to make the connection just as she'd done when she'd released him from the dimensional bubble. But this time, instead of forcing the engagement to complete the spell, she just let it happen naturally, syncing her life force with his until she could feel his essence through all of her senses. 

"You feel that?" She licked her lips and tried not to think about how the kiss they'd shared had seemed so tender and at the same time full of fiery intensity. _It wasn't real,_ she reminded herself. Still... the sensation of arousal was undeniable, simmering just below the surface and she couldn't help but smile as she rode the euphoric high of the connection.

He didn't answer, he was concentrating too hard on masking his bod’s reactions. He was pretty sure it wasn't just the feeling of being connected, he hadn't needed much encouragement before. Something about her... this quiet, but quirky, soft spoken but with a velvet fist girl that got to him, even when he was trying to hard not to get into entanglements... switching places with Dean. Not that after tonight he'd have any chance with her.

Mustering every ounce of self-control, Willow started the tedious process of breaking through the trickster's spell. But after a few moments, she realized it wasn't working. She couldn't even see the canvas of his spellwork, much less break it down. She took another breath, but the air around them was stifling. They were running out of time. 

"Okay... I need to try something else," She said as calmly as she could, her fingers curling to grip his shirt before she realized what she was doing. She flattened her hands against the taut planes of his muscles once again to maintain their harmonic resonance. 

"I'm going to have to shift my Sight in order to see the weave of the spell matrix. I know that doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's... it's like those posters. You know the ones that seem all blurry and just a mishmash of colors until your eyes fall out of focus and then you see the dolphins jumping in the water or planetary cosmic scene or whatever? It's like that. I can do it, but I may need your help. As I get deeper into the spell, I'll naturally want to concentrate on it, so if you see that happening, you need to distract me. Talk to me. Do whatever it takes so I don't unconsciously resort to drawing on my dark magick to get there faster. Okay?"

"Sure," he answered, still struggling... hoping she didn't know it was unusual for his heart to beat this hard or this fast. "Whatever you need."

Just being this close and utterly connected was distracting enough, and Willow used it to shift the focus of her Sight until she was able to see the threads of the spell matrix. 

"Okay... I've got it." Willow announced with proud smile. As she worked, her breathing slowed and little pricks of light floated outward from their joined auras to prick the invisible weave of magic that contained them. But the moment she concentrated too hard, they fell out of the pattern, floating randomly and without purpose. 

"Ugh..." she sighed with frustration. It was getting hotter and she could feel a sheet of perspiration gathering on her brow. "Sam... I don't know if I can do this..."

"You can do it," he said softly, knowing they were out of time. "Try again." As soon as her brows drew together, he whispered to her about things that hardly mattered, but saw he was being completely ineffective. "Keep trying." This time he lowered his head to her level and brushed his mouth over the corner of hers. His intent had been to distract her, but suddenly, he was the one distracted, the one whose mouth was burning... the one reaching for her hips and pulling her flush against him. His breathing came out harsh, and he spoke against her lips, "keep going." But the words were spoken automatically, as he tried to fight the need to kiss her again, for real.

The moment she felt his breath feathering hot across her lips, the pinpricks of light fell into alignment like an army of soldiers snapping to attention. Forming an organized pattern, they attacked the spell matrix and Willow felt a new force of power surging through her. 

"Sam... Oh... Gods. It's working," she whispered, her head light with euphoria. One hand fisted the back of his head to hold him close, the other moved around his waist as her body strained against his. She felt the pulse of his heart pounding through both their mystical connection and through the throbbing of his groin - all in perfect sync with her own body's rhythmic sensations. It was powerful. It was intoxicating. 

As the air thinned, Willow's breathing grew more labored. More power. She needed more juice. Instinctively, she reached for it and her eyes darkened with lust and power. "Yes..." she hissed and her nails bit into the back of his neck as she drew him into a fierce kiss. The more she focused on the physical sensations, the more energy fed the spellwork until thousands of lights, all colors of the spectrum exploded outward from their auras to break down the containment spell.

His open mouth crushed hers, their teeth clinking together, tongues tangling, exploring. Electric heat crackled, surged between them, drawing a groan out of him. In two strides, he had her backed up against the smooth wall of the bottle, his body pressing into hers so hard, she had to feel the imprint of his body. He shifted, grinding his arousal into her belly... soft and firm, so perfect. A web of sheer lust descended over him and it might be his imagination, but he swore he'd somehow managed to crawl inside her... feel her lust, her desires layered over his own.

If he'd been thinking, if he'd had the capacity to, then he wouldn't manhandle her now after what happened earlier. But he couldn't think, no matter what, and his hands were at her hips, pushing her slip up, his hands closing around her waist, his fingertips practically touching as he lifted her slightly, sucking his breath in when he had his cock pressed against her core. _Please_ He wanted to ask her for more, but his body did his talking and could not leave her under any doubt as to how much he needed her right now, when they were at the mouth of death. 

Willow cried out in an audible moan as he took her with unabashed intensity. It had been so long since she'd felt this kind of masculine energy... strong, angular muscles working against her, the rough bristle of his chin scraping along sensitive flesh, the steely length of his arousal... all of it focused on her and only her. Being with a man again was almost foreign... new... exotic... And she wanted it. _Needed it._ And not just to complete the spell. She needed to to connect with him in mind, spirit and body. She needed to know it was real. 

Her fingers clawed at his shirt until she pulled it over his head and her hands dipped beneath the waist band of his jeans to cup the muscular round of his backside. Coaxing him to grind harder, she dragged her thigh upward against his hip so he had access to move against her core. "Sam... can't breath..." Willow gasped out as the the prism of light energy shifted to blinding white all around them. They weren't going to make it. She felt herself growing dizzy... desperate...

The sounds of his breaths competed with his moans as he moved his mouth over hers, side to side, cupping the back of her head so she couldn't pull away or put any space between them. Her words registered but there wasn't anything he could do about what she said, what he could do something about was the fires she'd started in him. Needing to touch her, to be skin to skin, he dragged her top off over her head, unzipped his jeans and immediately closed the distance between them, like he couldn't stand the separation another moment. "Mmm," he groaned against her lips.

"Please... need you." Frantic, she reached deep inside his being to access all of him. Their dark energies started to merge even as she shed her panties and her hand came around to stroke arousal.

He practically lifted her up off the ground, throwing his head back as her hand closed around him. He could barely breath, his chest was straining, trying to pull in any available oxygen, and yet his mind, his body was focused on one thing... this woman in his arms. "Yes," he said roughly as she touched him, sending new spirals of heat through his system. Somehow the pain of not being able to breathe intensified the pleasure. 

He staggered backwards to the sofa and pulled her down with him, raising her thigh to help her straddle him. Then his hands were all over her, running down her throat, her shoulders, cupping her breasts. He bit his lips as he felt her react, and started slipping her straps off. "Back at you... need you," he muttered against her flesh, his mouth traveling down her chest. 

Willow panted and arched her back as his touch electrified her, igniting her life force and infusing her with the energy she needed. Her eyes darkened and dropped to half lidded as she moved over his cock, slick heat sliding over his pulsing length until she felt his tip at her entrance. In that moment, her gaze grew intense and locked on his. 

"Thy will be done," she whispered, exhausting her last breath as her hips thrust down to meet the sharp rise of his. 

The trickster's prison shattered around them, light and dark magic ebbing and flowing in a riotous whirlpool. All at once, air filled Willow’s lungs and she let out a groan of pleasure as she ground her hips, drawing Sam deeper, surrendering to the power of their union.


	3. Chapter 3

He was only vaguely aware of the sensation of falling, of landing on the soft bed. In the back of his mind, he knew they'd succeeded, that _she'd_ succeeded, that if he were the nice guy most people seemed to think he was, he'd stop her. Make sure she realized they didn't have to do this... that it was no longer a 'sex or die' situation. But as she rode him, as she clenched around his rock hard cock, as the heat of desire swept through his body, he decided "nice" was overrated.

 

Gripping her hips, he helped her rise and come down over his shaft, biting his lower lip as he watched her from under his bangs. So fucking beautiful, so sweet and sexy... so not the _witch_ he'd been duped into believing she was. Lifting his hips hard, groaning as he pushed deeper into her velvety warmth, he slid one hand up her side, partly cupped her breast, and then he just... he just needed her under him. Jackknifing up to a sitting position, he brought one hand behind her head, cupping it as he melded their mouths together in a hard, desperate kiss.

 

Each time their mouths parted, Willow drew in deep gulps of air only to have her breath taken away with the intensity of his kisses. Oblivious to their surroundings, she moved with him, her hips gyrating to meet each powerful thrust. The feel of his chiseled muscles against the softness of her breasts and his overpowering strength were exhilarating and she reveled in the clash of sensations.

 

And when he suddenly lifted her and she felt the bed under her back, the turbulence of the spell gave way to absolute clarity. She sucked in a sharp breath and looked up into the crystal clear depths of his eyes as he hovered over her. He stilled and she could feel the beat of his heart reverberating through her very core as he pulsed inside her. 

 

“Sam…” her voice was thick with desire. “Don’t stop… don’t ever stop…” she told him as her legs locked around his hips and her inner walls tightened around him.

 

He'd tensed when she said his name and looked at him like that, had known she'd come to her senses too. But her desperate plea rocked his world. "Wasn't planning to," he whispered, meeting her mouth half way, sucking her tongue the instant she gave it to him. One hand flat on the bed, holding some of his weight off her, he thrust his hips, barely holding in a groan at the friction between them. She was so tight, so hot, so in tune with him, it was beautiful and overwhelming, almost beyond his control. 

Breaking the kiss with a breathless mewl, Willow hooked her arm around his back and buried her face in the curve of his neck, straining against each driving thrust that took her closer to the precipice. Her fingernails pressed into the chiseled contours of his muscles leaving half moons across his back as she held on with all her strength, riding the cresting wave of desire even as it threatened to overtake her. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this alive and she wanted it to last forever.

And then she was kissing him again, devouring him, muttering unintelligible whispers of unrestrained pleasure. Feeling completely uninhibited, she stretched her arms up and grabbed the bars of her headboard, abruptly angling her hips so he could drive deeper into her core. Pulling her head up to look at him, she sucked in a labored breath at the sight of his well muscled chest and abdomen coated in a light sheen of sweat and he came against her again and again. When her lust filled eyes dragged up his body to meet his, her hands fisted tighter around the headboard and she hooked one leg over his shoulder and the other around his back to draw him deeper still.

When she felt his cock slamming against her g-spot, she cried out in a primal moan as the intensity of the sensation sent her tumbling over the edge of the cresting wave of ecstasy. "GodsGodsGodsSamPleaseNowNowNow _Now!_ " she panted out the words as the tsunami hit her full force and she shattered into a million pieces, clenching and writhing in uncontrolled spasms.

Every thrust, pull of her legs around his waist, every kiss, every moan she sounded, the terrible pressure built within him. He needed her, this, needed this, needed release, but he held on for as long as he could, and then she was pleading for it, and then there was the demand. His body tensed, every muscle straining as he threw his head back and climaxed with her, shouting her name as he held one of the bars on the headboard, and mindlessly drove into her again and again. She was clenching around him so hard, the sensations kept coming in waves, easing only slightly each time, until he was able to think again, to drop his head down and kiss her. Without pulling out of her, he rolled them so she was on top of him, stroking her back and the curve of her ass lightly, as they both came down from the peak they'd reached.

Willow's body quaked and shuddered as aftershocks rippled endlessly through her, each time one took her, she clenched around him in a tight spasm until she finally collapsed, laying flat on his chest, still straddling him. She heaved in gulps of air which slowly fueled her sense of reason - which she wasn't so sure was a good thing.

Slowly, she slid to Sam's side, tucked neatly under his arm with her leg draped over his abdomen and her hand on his chest. Tilting her head up, she hesitated to meet his eyes. What would he think of her? They barely knew each other, yet somehow she felt like she knew the entire depth of his soul as if it were her own.

"Uhm... wow?" she said tentatively having no idea how she was ever going to reconcile any of this.

He smiled, holding her a little closer. "I think that merits a wow, yeah. Maybe even a double wow." His chest rose and fell as he tried to get control over his breathing. Almost absently, he cupped the side of her face and slipped his hand up and down from her throat in a long caress. He thought the events over, from start to finish... how he'd tried to fool her into bed, how it had backfired with real feelings stirring, the things he'd shared with her in that genie bottle, and then this. "You know... I mean if you're wondering... I think this... it would have happened even without the spell, for what it's worth." He had a feeling to a girl like her, it would mean something.

"You do?" she nuzzled closer, unable to contain the smile that suddenly broke through the worry of her expression. She propped herself up so she was laying with her chin on his chest and she could see him better. "I mean... I wouldn't normally... you know... this isn't like me. I don't just jump into sex with any guy. And I mean that literally. I'm gay for God's sake!" She had to laugh at that. "I guess, that's not totally true... because... wow. Double wow," she grinned, her face glowing with delight.

"I'm thinking you're not thinking _gay_ as in happy..." No, he wasn't slow, but what the hell was he supposed to say to that? "You mean you and... usually... okay, you cannot tell Dean." He leaned down and kissed her hard, then gave her a fierce look. "I'm serious, he's always accusing me of being a 'girl'... I'll never hear the end of it." Leaning his head back, he chuckled. "Really, huh?" Okay, he was only a guy, of course he was flattered... not that he would ever let her know... but... yeah.

"Oh... you're _so_ not a girl. Trust me. I know from girls... and you. Not so much," she couldn't help but give him a wicked grin as she traced lazy circles on his chest. "I mean... even before the spell, I felt something. Obviously. But you know, then you had to go and try to kill me and all that..." she tried to suppress the smirk as she teased him.

He'd started to smile, froze, then smiled again. "If it's any consolation, I've died and come back... and so has Dean. Heard Buffy has. Maybe we should form a club, hmm?" His gaze dropped to her finger on his chest. "No... I'm definitely not a girl." Putting his hand on her leg, still thrown over him, he pressed lightly so she could feel his proof.

Cinnamon brows popped up at the feel of his arousal, already growing hard against her thigh. She moved her leg against him, letting out a happy sigh and kissed him gently on the mouth before brushing her lips along his chin and throat as she spoke. "You know... it's just like riding a bike," she said referring to the sex. "Though I might just need a little more practice. Not used to all this stubble..."

"You want a bike? I'll be your bike," he pulled her over him, closing his arms around her waist and kissing her as he rocked suggestively against her. "I hope you're a long distance rider," he murmured against her lips, his lips curved into a smile.

"I think I can go the distance..." she rotated her hips in a slow grind before closing her mouth over his in a heated kiss.

* * *

Four days had gone so fast, it made Sam's head spin. It was weird. He'd come to kill this girl... this woman who was probably the nicest, sweetest person he'd ever met, and then he'd practically moved in with her. She hadn't let him go back to his motel, and he hadn't wanted to, so he'd stayed. Four days of playing house. Of eating home cooked meals, of cooking with her in the kitchen. Of meeting her friends, and having them over, of being completely normal.

As he sat outside, on the steps of her porch, waiting on her, Sam ran his hand through his hair. He knew his mission. He knew that their job was to help people, save them wherever it was needed. He'd given up on his hopes, his wishes for a normal life a long time ago. But now... they were starting to haunt him again and it was unsettling. 

The door opened behind him, and he looked up. He couldn't help it, he smiled whenever he saw her. "I'd say it was worth the wait," he said, looking her up and down. She didn't have to be dressed up to look hot... she just had to show up.

"Sorry, couldn't find my other comfy shoe," she said kicking up her sandal clad foot next to him, her summer dress lifting around her bare legs as the gentle breeze wafted through the porch. She plopped down on the step next to him, leaning into his body as his arm came around her. "Wouldn't want you thinking I'm high maintenance or anything," she grinned, catching that look in his eye that made her heart skip a beat.

Had it really only been four days? In that short span of time, they'd shared their lives. The highest highs and the lowest lowest. She told him about Oz and how he'd helped her come out of her shell to help make her the woman she was today and about Tara and how she'd died and how that pain had caused her to turn to the dark side. He told her about his life at Stanford with Jessica and how she'd been murdered in the same way his mother had. And it turned out he had a relationship with a werewolf too... only instead of cheating on him with another werewolf and leaving town, Sam had been forced to kill her. With all they'd shared, it was no wonder that she felt like she'd known him for years.

"Nah, I know you're not. Dean spends more time in front of the mirror than you," he chuckled. And he'd be back tomorrow, with Buffy. Teeth gritted slightly together, he let out a breath. He shouldn't ruin the rest of the day with those thoughts. "So, watcha wanna do? Museum or beach?" 

Willow saw Sam's jaw tense briefly before that smile took over and lit up his face. She nuzzled against him, knowing what he was thinking. He'd be leaving soon. Too soon. But they'd promised they weren't going to dwell on that, so she didn't. "Well... there's an herbalist exhibit at the arboretum that I want to hit at some point - but it feels a little too much like work when I know I'll just be brushing up on new potential spell components. So, I vote beach. Sound good?"

"Beach... yeah, good," he closed both arms around her and kissed her, closing his eyes, memorizing her taste, how she felt in his arms, how it felt to have nothing to rush to, to sit on a porch and just... just enjoy your time. Running his fingers through her hair, he kissed her once more, then stood up, pulling her with him. "Haven't been to the beach for fun in like... forever."

Willow slipped her arm easily around his waist, fitting perfectly against his larger frame as they walked to the car. "Good. I know a place that shouldn't be too crowded," she told him.

The drive wasn't long or rushed and Willow took a little known side road that took them behind the long row of beach houses and out past the dunes. There was a spot that the beach patrol used to drive out onto the sand in an emergency, but there weren't any around now so she slipped through and tucked the car in behind an old broken pier to park. It was a beautiful sunny day and colorful kites dotted the sky a long ways down the beach, but they had this part of the sand all to themselves.

"They say the pier is haunted," she told Sam as she got out of the car with him. "It's probably not, but it keeps the locals away."

"Convenient haunting, or are you just trying to tempt me to get to work," he asked, putting one arm around her waist as they headed for the beach. "Its a beautiful spot. Peaceful." Was it crazy that he wasn't itching to get his EMF detector out? "Romantic," he added, looking down into her heart shaped face.

"That's what I was going for..." she said with an irrepressible smile. "Leave the work to Buffy and Dean. You know that's what they're doing... despite what they say." And just like that, she was back to thinking about how short their time was and she let out a small sigh as she looked out across the ocean.

Impulsively, she kicked off her sandals and started to run. "Last one to the water is a rotten egg!" she called out with a laugh.

He looked down at the sand and gave her a headstart, knowing each one of his strides were like two of hers. Leaving his shoes next to hers, he started to chase her. It wasn't really a race anymore, not when he was threatening a tickling.

Her shrieks had him laughing and holding back, only so he could drag on the torture of scaring her. They dodged around each other, she backed away from him, then tried to run past him. This time, he hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her back, his fingers at her ribs. "Who's the rotten egg? Hmm? Who?"

Willow kicked out her feet, laughing and wiggling until they both fell back into the sand. "You're rotten," she told him with a breathless smile when she came to rest laying next to him, half her body draped over his.

As she looked into his eyes... their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath, their smiles warming each other even under the cool ocean breeze... she knew then that she loved him. She wanted to tell him, but it would only make things harder when he had to go. And even though she didn't say it, she poured her feelings into a kiss and the way he responded, she knew he understood.

He enveloped her in his arms, one arm closing around her waist, the other over her back, his hand cupping the back of her head as their mouths moved over each other's. With each stroke of his tongue against hers, he allowed himself a little slice of heaven. The knowledge that he'd have to give this up soon, that he could never ask her to... to wait for him, it sharpened his need to live in the moment, to take what was being given to him, this gift. 

Time passed, too fast, though he didn't know how much of it. Soon, the long lingering kisses turned into something else. He was catching fire, moaning into her mouth as he rolled them over so that he was on top, his weight on his knees as he straddled her body, and still cradled her head in his hand. He looked at her, emotions warring inside him, needs that could never be fulfilled... desires... destiny standing in the way of dreams, this was his life. "I..."

Then he was kissing her again, this time fiercely, possessively, pretending to himself that he'd never give her up. That she was his, would always be his. Because dammit... he hadn't felt this way in a long time, hadn't been with someone that he could do 'forever' with.

And just like that, words unspoken ignited a flint of passion that quickly blossomed into a wildfire of unrestrained desire. Where Willow would normally be self-conscious in public, something about Sam cut right through her inhibitions and tapped into the carnal instincts they shared. The light fabric of the summer dress eased up her thigh as she lifted her leg and her body arched up against his, straining for more direct contact.

He knew they'd just hit the beach, that it was still light out, and that though no one was around, there could be at any moment. Yeah, not so classy of him to have gotten so revved up so quickly, to be groping her legs, pushing her skirt up like this, and yet he couldn't help himself. As their kiss got even more heated, his hand moved over her panty at her side, his breath hitching as he though over pushing the material down and...

And he fucking better be certain she even wanted this to happen. Lifting himself up, he looked around then at her. "I... here?" He licked his lips, trying desperately to regain control over his breathing. "Probably not a good idea... but..."

 

"Probably not," Willow gasped out, even as her hips rose to close the unwelcome gap between them. The sound of the surf and feel of the sand at her back served as the perfect backdrop for something so natural as what she felt for Sam. Unable to see their future, she was forced to live in the moment. _This_ moment.

Her hand cupped the back of his neck to pull him into a smoldering kiss and Willow opened herself to feel everything. Their combined energy was vibrant and intoxicating... more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. "Probably a very bad idea..." she said thickly, actions belying her words as her hand stroked down his arm and slipped between their bodies to work his jeans open.

He hissed out a breath as her hand brushed over his straining cock. "Not the _worst_ idea I've ever hard," he managed, thinking ... no he'd stopped thinking a long time ago. The instant she freed him, he was pushing his pants down, getting them off as soon as he could, and then dropping back down over her. He pushed her clothes up again, the heel of his hand on her panty, grinding lightly against her wet heat. "Want to be inside you." There it was, the unvarnished truth, he wanted to be as close as he could ever get, as connected as they could ever get. "Want _You._ "

Willow nodded wordlessly, her eyes fastened on his. She could already feel him inside her as the crackle of their combined mystical energies surged through her. She knew he could feel it too. "Want you..." she echoed his demand, her legs parting for him as she shifted in the sand to draw him closer.

His fingers curled around her panties at both sides of her hips and he slowly pulled them down and off her long, smooth legs, kissing his way back up and finding himself between her thighs. He licked her, moving his tongue over her, vibrating it as fast as he could. The breeze pushed her skirt over his head. He licked and sucked few more times, cupping her ass and raising her up slightly until he was satisfied she was ready for him.

Arching her back at the delicious and intense sensations, Willow fisted the sand and her sides and let out a whimper of pleasure as she squirmed and bucked against him.

Pushing her skirt off his head, he gave her a strained smile, the dark energies flowing between them making it hard for him to keep it light. He knew she felt it too, a connection like no other he'd ever experienced... it tugged at him at soul level. Covering her body with his, he he pulled her up hard against him, one hand cupping her ass, the other on the side of her face, guiding her mouth to his. Between hard kisses, he pushed inside her, moaning at how tight... how perfect she felt around him as he sank into her wet heat. "Willow..." 

Eyes wild with desire, Willow let out a primal moan, sheathing tight around his rock hard length. Hand tight around the back of his head, she devoured him in a hungry torrent of kisses, tasting herself on his lips, sharing every part of herself with him.

"Sam..." she hissed, locking her legs around his hips to hold him steady. "Don't move," she said on a breathless pant. She felt the pulse of his cock throbbing inside her, thrumming against her core as he strained to remain still. "Sam. You... what you do to me. What we _are..._ together..." She closed her eyes and reached out to him through her senses until the natural rhythms of their bodies merged into one.

One hand flat on the ground next to her head, holding some of his weight up, Sam's arm muscles bulged as he strained, forced himself to remain motionless despite his natural instinct to rock into her. Gritting his teeth, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, he rode the waves of their power, flowing between them, his breaths growing labored as his need heightened. "God... please..." He opened his eyes, heart pounding against his chest.

When she opened her eyes and locked her gaze on his again, she smiled. Green eyes speckled with gold sparked with pure joy. "So amazing..." Slowly, she moved her hips, grinding her backside into the sand as she pulled him deeper until she finally released her leg lock to allow him to pull back, but she followed the movement with a quick jerk to draw him right back where he was, buried deep in her molten center.

He tried to move slowly, tried for a slow build up, but a few moments of staring into her eyes as she pulled him inside, release, and pulled again... with muscle control that he'd never thought possible, and he knew there was no way. Drawing in a breath, he crashed his mouth down over hers, teeth clinking, tongues tangling as he started to thrust. So hot, she was so hot, his Willow... maybe his other... the missing part of his soul. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, afraid that he'd be too rough on the sands. He gripped her hip, his other hand splayed wide across her belly, moving up and down, sand raining down on him from her body. "Now," he said, lifting up, making her ride him hard. "Let's get there, now."

Muscles tightened and flexed as she took up his request with reckless abandon. Her sun dress cascaded over her thighs and she rocked forward, dragging her fingernails down his chest, the overwhelming warmth of his flesh igniting the fire into a blazing inferno. Throwing her head back, her red hair spilled down her back, lifting with the wind and whipping around her face. Clear blue skies above, sand dunes to the front of her, the roar of the ocean at her back, and Sam... They were one with the elements. United in mind, body, and soul.

Faster, slower, harder, softer. The rhythm never faltered until finally Willow seized around him, her unabashed cries of ecstasy sending a flock of gulls launching into the air.

Lifting his hips up off the ground, holding in that position, impaling her as she clenched around him, Sam barely bit back the shout that welled in his throat. His entire body tightened, strained as he watched her come apart, and then he was releasing deep inside her, bucking, pulling her down on him, groaning out here name, until he collapsed back down onto the sand. He pulled her down so she was sprawled over him, kissing her, loving how she felt, how she tasted. Not knowing how or if he'd ever let go of this.

Willow heaved in great gulps of air, reveling in the sensations that coiled through until her muscles gave out and she flopped down on top of him. Suddenly giddy, she felt a tickle start to ripple through her, blossoming into laughter as if she were drunk on the affects of their love. Eyes shining, she propped herself up to look at Sam, batting at his tousled hair to send bits of sand flying.

There they were, tangled up on the beach. His jeans flung carelessly to the side and her panties half buried somewhere nearby. The brightly colored kites still bobbed and wove through the wind currents held by unseen people on the other side of the dunes. And Willow wasn't the least bit embarrassed they'd just ravished each other in under the bright sun on a public beach. 

"I love you," she told him. She hadn't meant to... she knew that it didn't really need saying out loud. But her heart had other ideas. And there it was.

"That's amazing," he answered, his heart swelling as he laughed with her. "Cause I do too... love you." And yeah, life always had a way of fucking up his best laid plans, but this time... this time he didn't care, he welcomed it.

* * *

"Chicago." 

Sam had stupidly repeated their next destination when Dean had told him the location of their next hunt and walked out to the car to take stock of what weapons and supplies they needed to replenish. Eventually the numb feeling wore away, he pulled his face up out of his hands and pushed up off the comfortable couch. His gaze went to the mug of coffee he'd just finished, and then to the door to the hallway. He could hear the girls talking and laughing inside.

Letting out a heavy breath, he walked out into the sunshine, one hand sliding over the wooden post as he went down the porch steps. On the street level, he walked to where Dean was bent over, taking inventory in the trunk of the car.

"I hear they have killer pizza," Dean said without looking up. "They named a whole friggin crust style after it, but I bet there's nothing like the original. My mouth is watering already..." he said with a low chuckle as he shifted the bag of rock salt to see how many silver bolts they had left.

"Who? Oh, Chicago, yeah. Pie style or something," he said in a distinctly disinterested tone. Moving in next to Dean, he started shifting things around. "The shotgun was misfiring last time I used it," he said, pulling it out and knowing Dean would take care of it. He looked toward the apartment building then back. "So how long you figure this hunt will take." As if that mattered. There would be another one, and the next one...

Dean took the weapon and cracked it open and as he sighted down the inside of the barrel, he saw Sam glancing back to Buffy and Willow's place. Snapping the shotgun closed he tucked it back into the trunk, making a mental note to oil the chokes. "Your guess is as good as mine," he answered evenly as he brought his gaze up to meet his brother's. "Going to have to establish ourselves as regulars if we want a ticket into the underground. A couple weeks... maybe a month. Probably more."

Sam raised his chin in a acknowledgment. More than a month. 

So maybe he was exaggerating, but Dean had to know. And when he saw the cord in Sam's neck flex and that kicked puppy look in his eyes, he knew. And that's when he made up his mind. Turning back to the trunk, Dean gathered up a few things he knew he could spare and shoved them in a duffel. "You know what Sammy? I got this one," he pushed the canvas bag at his brother with a hard fought smile.

Catching it, Sam's gaze locked with Dean's. A month, with her... time to see what it would be like to have a normal life, to see where what they had lead them. His heart said 'yes'... no it said 'hell yes... don't be an idiot.' So what if he skipped one hunt? This was important too. He blinked, and thought he saw something in Dean's eyes, like his brother was letting him go.

Licking his lips, he said. "Dean I... Look man, I just..."

"I know," Dean cut in. "But you've got a real shot at something here..." His voice held steady despite the strain of emotion that had his chest tightening. "I've seen the way you look at her when she doesn't know you're looking." He paused and looked away briefly, eyes following a bird back to its nest in the big elm tree at the edge of the property. "Dude, you helped her make beef stroganoff last night and it was friggin' awesome!" he said with a deep chuckle, but his expression sobered quickly as he caught the strangled look in Sam's eyes. "You deserve a shot at something normal. Dad took that away from you. I want to give it back."

"Thanks." Rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye, then through his hair, Sam switched back into the mode of figuring out the supplies that were still needed. "Pass me the..." he nodded toward a small bag, and once Dean did, he checked the inside. "Running a little low on silver bullets. I can take care of that."

Dean gave Sam a long look as he continued the inventory, but he didn't say anything more on the subject. He'd put it out there and he meant to stick to it, but Sam would have to make up his own mind on this one. "Could use some more herbs for hex bags, too. Bet Willow gets a kickass discount at the local hoodoo shop. Should stock up."

"M'kay, I'll take care of that too."

The brothers fell into routine, dividing up the tasks that would need to be undertaken before the next hunt began.

* * *

Dean was packing the car. From the porch, Sam could see him and Buffy by the car, talking... saying their good byes. He turned to the door as Willow walked out, and made some room for her on the steps, searching her face. She looked a bit stressed too. He looked down, wiping his palms on his jeans.

Willow dropped down next to Sam, watching Buffy and Dean. It seemed so easy for them. She knew it wasn't. She knew how much Buffy hated being apart from Dean, but they'd worked it out. Somehow... this life... the long distance, random visit thing worked for them. Willow didn't know how, but somehow it would work for her and Sam too. Somehow.

"I made you something," she said opening her hand to reveal a charm on a black cord.

He looked up, eyeing the charm dangling from the cord and and putting his hand out. "What did you _make_ " he asked, trying to force a little cheer into his voice. He lifted his eyes to hers and knew if he left, he'd be regretting it all the way to Chicago.

A tiny smile pulled at the edge of her mouth as she reached around his neck to fasten the cord, her fingers deftly moving along the length of the cord and tucking it inside his shirt. She smoothed her hand over the charm, her hand flat against his chest as she looked into his eyes. "It will help you control your power," she explained. "It's infused with our combined energies. So... it's like the essence of our connection," she explained as best she could.

"Seriously?" A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. "So if I touch it, I'm... basically touching you?" He liked that idea, even if it wasn't quite accurate. "Thank you." 

Taking her hand, he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the mouth. 

They sat like that, quiet for a while. It was never awkward when each of them was deep in thought and not speaking, he liked that. He licked his lips. "Dean said... he offered to take this hunt alone." His eyes locked with hers and whereas he was hoping to find answers, he saw his own confusion reflected back at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her heart beat quickening, her expression shifting to one full of sudden hope. "Like... so you could stay a little while longer?" But just as quickly, she squelched the hope and her brows drew together. "But, you guys are a team. What if... what if something happened?"

"I know." She was saying all the things that he was thinking. "I know." 

Sam took a deep breath. "It's tempting. I mean these few days here, they've been amazing. I mean really amazing." He looked toward the Impala, then back at her. "I know what I want, but its not always the right thing, you know? Not in the 'it would be wrong' sort of way, but more like in the duty calls way."

"Hmmm," Willow said noncommittally, the crease on her forehead growing deeper. After a long silence she took a breath and decided if she didn't speak her mind, she might just regret it for the rest of her life. "Duty? Is that what it's about for you? Don't get me wrong because... trust, me, I get that. Buffy's all about duty... being the Chosen One and all. But I thought this thing you do... the hunting. I didn't think it was about duty. I thought it was something more than that. I thought it was deeper. Like it's something you need to do because it's who you are."

Suddenly feeling uncertain, she shifted on the stairs so she was facing him, taking his hand in hers. "What we have? It's... well... there really aren't words to describe it. But I know you feel it," she moved his hand to his chest, lacing her fingers with his as she held it there, amplifying the flow of their joined energies caressing their very souls. "And I have to say... I'm not so sure I'm prepared to let that go for something as utilitarian as duty."

"Even when your duty has to do with..." He put his hand over hers, and he did feel her energy pulse against his own life force, connected in a way he'd never felt with any other person. "We're in the business of stopping the apocalypse, these days," he said. "Not _an_ apocalypse, but _the_ apocalypse." Sometimes it felt like a lost cause, and he wondered if he should just give up, spend whatever time there was left doing the things he wanted. Then he usually woke up.

"I'm in the same business... remember? And there's always another apocalypse around the corner," Willow answered. "I mean, I get it. You've got the Four Horseman stampeding hot on your heels. But either you stop them or you get trampled and someone else stops them or gets trampled. If everybody gets trampled, none of this matters. But if you or someone else stops this apocalypse, there'll be another one around the corner." 

Her brow furrowed. She knew she wasn't really explaining this very well. "Look. Sam... you said you know what you want, but then there's duty, so you feel like you have to do what's _right_ , not necessarily what you _want_. It would be entirely possible to throw duty out the window without regrets... people do it all the time. But think about it. What you and Dean do... I think it's deep inside you. And I think it goes beyond duty." 

Willow felt her eyes moisten. She had a chance to convince him to stay, but here she was, convincing him why he needed to go. "I-I think it's deeper then this even..." she squeezed his hand tighter, tears brimming to her eyes. "And that's okay. But Sam, please tell me if I'm wrong. Because if I'm wrong and all this is just about duty..." the word caught in her throat and came out as a hoarse whisper. "Stay."

He frowned, thought hard for a while. "Breeding," he finally managed. "It's in the blood. Hunters," he said, his own voice reflecting his anguish. Maybe he could settle down for a while, but like she'd said, it was deep this thing... he'd always want to go out there, to hunt, to save people. "I can't... I want to... I want to so bad, Willow..." he drew her close, enveloping her small frame in his arms, and whispering against her ear. "But I can't. I got to be out there, with Dean. He doesn't believe in destiny but I... I guess I do."

Willow nodded against his chest, sniffling back her tears. "I know..." she murmured softly, gripping him tight. Sam had told her his history and Willow had listened with her heart. There might have been a time when he hunted because it was what his father expected and then because it was what he thought Dean expected. But it had grown into something more than that. She felt it in him that very first day they met. "I know..." she repeated, burying her head and refusing to release the embrace. Just because she knew it was the way it had to be didn't make it any easier. 

When she finally drew back, she cupped his face and kissed him, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "I love you so much. But I'll always be with you. Okay?" She reached for the charm and clutched it against his chest.

He felt his eyes sting, grimaced, trying to force back some of his emotions, keep them under control. He kissed her back, tasting her tears, tasting her sweetness, his own hand cupping her cheek. "I love you too, I just... how can I ask that of you? It wouldn't be fair." He knew Dean and Buffy had that deal but that didn't mean that he would expect Willow to embrace it. 

"You're not asking anything of me. I'm giving you this... because it's what _I want_ ," she told him plainly. She didn't need him to say he'd be true to her because what they had transcended sex. She had never been more confident of anything in her life. They belonged to each other. "And besides," she said with a smile and a sniffle. "I know you'll be back around here soon enough with Dean behind the wheel. Don't think wild horses or even Four Horseman could keep him away from Buffy for too long."

He laughed finally. "I'll be sure that we find a lot more hunts out here, in California." Hearing the car's horn, he got up, pulling her with him. "Maybe some time we could take you guys with us, if a hunt is close by," he mused, putting one arm around her waist as they walked down the stairs and saw that Dean was already in the car, and Buffy was leaning into his window.

When they reached the car, Sam turned his back to the car and pulled Willow into his arms. "Back as soon as I can," he told her, meaning every word as he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her hard, molding her closer, not giving a damn who passed by and saw them. He loved this woman, and one way or another, he was going to make this work for them.

Her cheeks were still wet with tears, but she wasn't crying anymore. It was strange, but she felt happy knowing that he was following what was in his soul even if it took him away from her. The hunt may have his soul, but she knew she had his heart. His kiss took her breath away and as he dragged her up his longer body, their hearts met, pounding together in perfect harmony. When he finally set her back down on her feet, she tilted her face up to his with a sunny smile. 

With her hand over his chest, she fingered the charm lay beneath his shirt. "I'm always with you," she channeled a trickle of her energy into him, tickling his senses playfully. Slowly she stepped away until her hand dropped to her side.

As Sam got into the car next to Dean, Buffy joined her and Willow wrapped her arm around her friend holding her tight.

Dean looked over at Sam, eyes slightly bloodshot. This would normally be the time where he'd make some crass joke to lighten the mood, but somehow it didn't feel right. Just like he had, Sam had made the hard choice. He just hoped he'd found happiness... just like he had.

With a tap of his foot, the Impala rumbled away from the curb and they hit the road out of Sunnydale.

Sam turned his head slightly, looking in the rear view mirror until Willow was no longer visible. _Not there, here._ His hand rested over the amulet she'd given him, and a small smile played on his mouth. 

THE END


End file.
